


companionable silence

by talkingsoup



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fell Sans is Weird, Fluff, Gift Fic, Gift Giving, Guilt, M/M, Stargazing, implied spicykustard, kustard - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:09:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25318090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingsoup/pseuds/talkingsoup
Summary: There's a comet in the sky. Sans wants to show it to Red. (Giftfic for Nilchance, set in their Ain't This The Life universe).
Relationships: Sans/Sans (Undertale)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 106





	companionable silence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nilchance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nilchance/gifts).
  * Inspired by [ain't this the life](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12319578) by [nilchance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nilchance/pseuds/nilchance). 



> Gift fic for @nilchance who is amazing. If you're not already reading [ATTL](https://archiveofourown.org/series/896544) what are you even doing.
> 
> I have never written Underfell ever I am sorry. I've also never written something that tries to match someone else's style. This was kind of also an experiment for me lol.
> 
> Listen I just, like Kustard, okay,
> 
> Comet NEOWISE is visible from the northern hemisphere through the end of July! You can find it near the Big Dipper!

“You heard about the comet?”

Sans says it into a companionable silence, something that’s becoming more of a regular thing these days, even without the tactical use of weed. Which says things about them that Red is still hesitant to examine too closely, something something not needing to fill a silence with bullshit as often. Fuck it. He’s trying to frame it as Sans just being more relaxed, more comfortable. Much easier to get fuzzy about.

It’s been a pretty  _ long _ companionable silence, come to think of it. Red has been going through recordings from the embassy for maybe an hour now (boring as hell--the most interesting thing so far is that one of the secretaries has a crush on Asgore). Sans has spent most of that time dozing with his head on Red’s shoulder and the rest idly scrolling through his phone. An hour without any snarking, or without anyone getting handsy--yeah, that’s pretty good for them. So the fact that Sans breaks the silence now, with what should be a pretty innocuous comment, is suspicious as hell.

They’re past the point of mindgames, mostly, but sometimes Red thinks that they both have some kind of hard-on for bullshit. He grins.

“What kind of space nerd do you take me for?”

It’s a pointless response, because obviously Sans already knows that Red has heard about the comet. He wouldn’t be bringing it up otherwise. It’s been all over the news. Humans get excited about comets and such too.

Red glances over at him to find Sans’s eyelights on him and a placid smile on his face. That smile would fool anyone but Red. And any flavor of Papyrus, of course.

“Wanna try and see it tonight?”

Red checks the time on his laptop. Almost 10.

“Pretty sure it’s not visible naked eye until like 3,” he says, and he does not let any sort of wistfulness into his voice. Red doesn’t have a wistful bone in his body. “When’s the last time either of us stayed up that late?”

Sans’s smile turns momentarily wicked.

“I mean--”

“When’s the last time either of us were up that late and not  _ fucking?” _

“Fair enough,” Sans says, breezy as you like. He scoots away, just enough that he can sit up on his own. Red immediately misses the extra warmth and weight.

Sans stretches like the most contented cat in the world.

“No harm in trying, right?” His voice is way too damn casual. “Real clear out. Wanna take a break from unlawful surveillance?”

“And miss out on this drama? Some clerk broke their favorite mug in the breakroom earlier.”

“Critical information, truly.”

“The safety of all monsterkind is at stake.”

Sans gives a soft chuckle and slides bonelessly to his feet. Bonelessly bony, that’s probably a skill shared by all Sans-es.

“Good northeastern view from your backyard.”

“Convenient.”

“Get up, jackass.”

Red snorts and closes his laptop, cutting off the soft sounds of boring people issuing from his headphones. He doesn’t miss how Sans’s smile broadens or the muted delight behind his otherwise placid expression. Okay, obviously Sansy is up to something, and obviously it’s just scientific curiosity that’s driving Red to find out what it is. Okay, scientific and sexual, but science can be sexy sometimes--whatever. He sets his laptop aside and gets up.

The backyard is a bit overgrown and mostly unused. Edge keeps talking about building a shed or starting a garden or whatever, but the truth is that neither of them really know what to do about the whole concept of a yard. Back home, the yard was for perimeter defenses only. The shed was for backup weapons and one of their food stashes. Here in this soft little world, people don’t put tripwires and alarms at strategic points on their properties--though of course that didn’t stop Red from stringing up some jangly bits of bells and metal here and there, because old habits etc. etc. Sans pointed out like a year ago that the pit trap Edge had dug near the fence was probably a zoning violation, so now there’s just a weird depression in the grass over there. The yard now is mostly just a home for strays, because Edge, bless his soul, keeps leaving out food. They’re going to become crazy cat skeletons at this point, and that’s not counting the two raccoons and the family of possums.

So the difference in the backyard is immediately noticeable. There’s a goddamn telescope set up right smack in the middle of the grass, with a goddamn blanket spread out next to it, and what looks suspiciously like a goddamn bottle of whiskey lying on the blanket. Two things immediately get Red’s guard up--the fact that someone managed to set something like this up in his own backyard without him noticing (old habits etc.), and the fact that it’s not  _ Sans’s _ telescope. Red has seen Sans’s scope plenty of times. This one is a different model.

There’s what looks to be a shiny red gift bow stuck to the casing near the eyepiece.

“Oh fuck off,” Red says, and the surprise that sneaks into his voice does so without permission.

Sans is already laughing. “Okay, hear me out--”

Red thinks of back when Sans figured it out. Back when he’d just oh-so-casually tossed a little skull ring to Red and seen (and felt) how Red had reacted. And then the gloves for Edge, because Sans needs to make sure no one thinks he’s playing favorites, even though no one thinks that. Sans is careful to only exploit that weakness every now and then, and it’s always cheap little things. Like the plastic shark-pattern wallet he saw in a convenience store and decided Red might like. And he does. It’s in his back pocket right now. He’s gonna keep it til it falls apart, so there.

Little things. Not a fucking telescope. Red is trying to run the numbers in his head at top speed--Sans’s jobs, how much he gets paid, how much he might have stashed away, how much of that stash is probably set aside for Papyrus despite what Papyrus might think of it--

Too expensive by every measure. The mix of emotions is so confusing that Red kind of just freezes in place for a moment. There’s the guilt of course, and the possessiveness like he needs to go grab that telescope and sit on it like a dragon on a hoard, and the fucking  _ arousal _ over Sans giving him things, and then the guilt again because Sans keeps giving and is still so bad at  _ wanting, _ and fuck,  _ it’s just too expensive. _

“Sans.”

Sans must hear it in his voice, even though Red is doing a pretty good job of sounding normal. He rounds in front of Red--stepping into his field of view before he reaches out and catches Red’s shoulder, which is smart. He’s always been smart like that.

His smile is warm and a touch guilty.

“Hear me out,” he says again. “It’s half for me. Got sick of lugging mine back and forth, yanno? Or making Edge do it.”

Red narrows his eyesockets, because Sans has to know how much that sounds like an excuse.

“I was already thinking of getting this kinda model,” Sans goes on. “This type’s better for near-Earth objects and stuff in the solar system, better stabilizers and such. And the model’s not as expensive as you’d think.”

Right. Yeah, okay. Red has familiarized himself with telescope models, and Sans isn’t lying. By telescope standards, this model is fairly cheap.  _ Fairly. _

“Plus the eyepieces are interchangeable for this one and mine,” Sans says, leaning a little closer. There’s more of that guilt in his smile now, like he’s thinking that maybe he fucked up more than he thought he would. “So I didn’t have to get extras.”

Red forces himself to readjust some of the math. Accounting for a relatively inexpensive model, the lack of unnecessary extras…

“Plus there was a sale,” Sans says, and Red curses inwardly. Sans sees the change and some of that guilt dissipates. “Call it, uh, a late joint birthday gift.”

Red closes the distance and kisses him. Hard, but not lingering, because that bit of guilt still in Sans’s expression is really defusing Red’s own.

“You already got me a birthday gift, sweetheart,” he says, the mental math starting to sink away under the fact that there’s a working telescope nearby.

“You can have cake and orgasms any day.”

“God, I hate you,” Red says fondly.

Sans grins. “No you don’t.”

The warmth and knowing in his voice does stupid things to Red’s soul. And his pelvis. Neither of them are any good at saying the word out loud, even after all this time, but they also don’t really need to.

Fuck. Sans got him--them--a telescope. A wholeass telescope that can live at Red’s house, that he can use whenever he wants.

“Asshole,” Red mutters. He’s not hugging Sans, he’s just--holding him here in case he gets any funny ideas about walking away.

“Guilty.” There’s that wickedness again. “Wanna see stars?”

This absolute bastard. Red likes to think Sans has developed a bit more bastard since they met, but at least 98% of it was there already.

“Maybe after the comet.” Red says it like a promise. He looks past Sans at the scope. “Can track near-Earth objects, huh?”

“Comets, asteroids,” Sans says, his grin now more the open delight of space nerdery. “Incredible for moon viewing, too.”

Sans keeps his hand on Red’s shoulder as they move toward the telescope. Red tries not to look too reverent. The dragon instinct is harder to resist. Red pretends not to be hesitant as he reaches out and lays his free hand on the casing, pulling off the dinky red bow. He’s just claiming it as his, that’s all. Less uncouth than licking it.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he says, and he lets himself just grin. “You’re gonna spoil me.”

“You say that like you’re not already.” The last of the guilt is gone from Sans’s expression, and now he just looks…

Happy.

It’s a damn good look on him.

Red wants to just stare, but it’s just gonna make Sans shy. Not that a shy Sans is always a bad thing, but Red just…wants to let that happiness settle, even if it means he can’t stare at it all night. Besides, there’s a comet to see.

There’s a computer in the telescope used for tracking objects, and it’s easy enough to figure out how to use. Sans must have aligned the scope already, because when Red tells it to find the comet, the scope finds it in moments. The comet lands almost perfectly in the center of the field.

Red can’t hide the reverence this time when he sees it, and he doesn’t want to. Sans gets it.; there’s no one to hide it from. The stars, the night sky--there’s something about it that goes beyond just beauty or mushy language. It’s a sort of quiet, peaceful enormity. A companionable silence. The comet is bright against the blackness, the tail clear and trailing away off the field of view. All the articles and pictures described a long, prominent tail, and Red wasn’t sure he’d be able to see it, not naked eye at least. But there it is. A snowball in space, leaving ice and mist behind it. Like the mist that would form those rare days when Snowdin warmed up enough for some of the snow to melt.

They don’t talk much. Just a few comments about the comet’s discovery, its trajectory, its magnitude. How it won’t circle back past the Earth for another two thousand years. Sans’s hand moves from Red’s shoulder to his hand, their fingers tangling together. His hands aren’t as cold as they used to be.

The little voice in the back of Red’s skull that’s been here all this time, muttering about how this is too weak, too tender, too mushy, too  _ much, _ has gone completely silent.

Eventually Sans looks up from the eyepiece and over at Red, that warm happiness still on his face.

“Supposed to be a great view of Jupiter tonight too,” he says. “Europa’s transitioning around 11. Think the scope’s good enough to see the shadow.”

“Half an hour,” Red says.

“Can check out Mars till--”

Red kisses him. Not as hard this time, but longer, deeper. Maybe it’s out of character, but that stupid quiet tenderness has gotten stuck in his soul, and it would feel almost sacriligeous to fuck like they usually do under a sky like this. A half an hour isn’t enough time to do all the things that Red wants to do to Sans, but it’s enough for a thank you.

“Your neighbors might complain,” Sans says as Red pulls him down onto the blanket, Red beneath him.

“You’re good at keeping quiet when you want to,” Red says, and he basks in the faint little flush that the words leave on Sans’s face.

“'Sides, not like you didn’t plan for this,” Red says, grinning against Sans’s mouth, tugging at Sans’s shorts. “Laid out a fucking blanket and everything.”

“A  _ fucking _ blanket.”

“Shut up,” Red says with another too-tender kiss. “Lemme thank you.”

Sans is quiet after that. Except for the hitch of breath when Red sinks his fingers into him, the muffled gasp when Red slowly pulls him down onto his magic. It’s softer than they usually are with each other, but that’s fine for now. Just for now. Sans is flushed and warm, eyelights brighter than all the stars above him.

“Beautiful,” Red says, and they can both pretend he means the stars.


End file.
